


Crimes of Illusion

by threerings



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Case Fic, Dom/sub Undertones, Hints of serious conversations, Honestly an ode to Juno's ass and thighs, Jealous Peter, Juno has to seduce someone for a heist, Juno in a Dress, Juno in lingerie, Kissing, Knifeplay, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Other, Post Season 2 Finale, Rimming, Slight Juno/OFC, but mostly lust, flirtation, smut and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 19:11:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18239066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threerings/pseuds/threerings
Summary: Juno and Peter dance around each other as their team commits a heist.  Featuring jealous thieves, prickly ex-detectives, mutual pining, and Juno in a dress.Peter didn’t give any sign he even remembered what they’d had.  Juno decided he must want to start fresh.  If Peter didn’t want it brought up, then he would respect that.  He had to, didn’t he?  Even if he’d somewhat-secretly hoped to work through things, to get some kind of forgiveness, even to possibly be able to earn his way back into Nureyev’s heart...he could accept he didn’t really deserve any of that.So he started to relax a bit more.  Started to actually enjoy the new setting, his new compatriots.  And that was when something changed with Nureyev.  The more relaxed Juno got, the more distant Nureyev seemed.  Juno started to catch little things out of the corner of his eye.  The twitch of a brow, a thinning of the lips, coldness in his eyes behind a polite smile.  These things were never blatant enough for him to be sure, or even if he was sure, not enough for him to comment on.  Peter didn’t say anything out loud, didn’t make snide comments or criticize him.  But it was enough to put him on edge.





	Crimes of Illusion

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings: Shows brief scenes of Juno flirting with a woman under false pretenses, and then drugging her. I realize it's kinda a shitty thing to do to someone but...crime, yanno. In my head she works for evil fuckers and totally knows it, if that helps. 
> 
> Minor knifeplay and trust games. No cutting, blood, or harm involved.

It took a while for Juno to start to relax in his new life on board a spaceship. For the first few days after he and Rita joined the ‘Crime Crew’ (as she insisted on calling them), he’d spent all his time looking over his shoulder for Peter Nureyev, always convinced the thief could appear at any moment and demand they have That Conversation. 

He’d had his words all picked out: his defenses, his apologies, his arguments...but the conversation never came. Whenever the two of them met, Nureyev was perfectly polite but distant. Juno thought an outsider watching him would assume he and Juno had some slight acquaintance from the past: a little awkwardness from a past job. But not that they had been lovers. Not that Juno had left him without warning or explanation. 

Yet Peter didn’t give any sign he even remembered what they’d had. Juno decided he must want to start fresh. If Peter didn’t want it brought up, then he would respect that. He _had_ to, didn’t he? Even if he’d somewhat-secretly hoped to work through things, to get some kind of forgiveness, even to possibly be able to earn his way back into Nureyev’s heart...he could accept he didn’t really deserve any of that. 

So he started to relax a bit more. Started to actually enjoy the new setting, his new compatriots. And _that_ was when something changed with Nureyev. The more relaxed Juno got, the more distant Nureyev seemed. Juno started to catch little things out of the corner of his eye. The twitch of a brow, a thinning of the lips, coldness in his eyes behind a polite smile. These things were never blatant enough for him to be _sure_ , or even if he was sure, not enough for him to comment on. Peter didn’t say anything out loud, didn’t make snide comments or criticize him. But it was enough to put him on edge. Increasingly on edge every time he was in the same space as the thief. 

After a few weeks, he felt like a mess of nerves and utterly conflicting feelings about one Peter Nureyev. He argued with himself for long into the night about whether or not he should just confront the man already. 

One day he was sitting in the rec area with Jet, ostensibly talking about their next target but really pressing the big guy for stories of his past jobs. He had grown to enjoy the older man’s company more and more since they’d left Mars. Juno was laughing, at least inwardly, his lips curved up on one side as he teased the unflappable face across from him. A sound came from the doorway that drew his attention, and he froze, smirk on his face and hand on Jet’s knee. Peter Nureyev stood there, some papers clutched limply in one hand, his face a mask of distaste. Juno didn’t know if he’d ever seen a scowl like that on his face before. Their eyes locked for long seconds, the expression falling off his own face, and then Nureyev had turned and was stalking away back down the corridor.

Juno straightened, frowning after him. 

“You should talk to him,” said Jet’s calm, deep voice. 

“What?” He barely looked at the other man. 

“You can’t ignore it.” 

Juno focused on him finally. “I...I...” The automatic protest that he didn’t know what Jet meant died on his lips. He sighed. “I don’t think he wants to talk.” The big man’s shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug. “Dammit,” Juno added, standing. He was suddenly angry. He’d spent the last he-didn’t-even-know-how-long tiptoeing around Peter Nureyev, and now he couldn’t even share a joke with a friend without getting glared at. 

“See you later, Juno,” Jet called out behind him as he moved to follow after him. 

“Yeah,” he replied, not even glancing back. 

He walked directly to Nureyev’s room and knocked on the closed door. He didn’t hear anything from inside the room, but he’d noticed the ship had pretty good soundproofing when the rooms were sealed. He knocked again. He debated trying the control panel next to the door. The rooms didn’t lock automatically, so unless Peter had locked it behind him, he could just go in. He tapped his foot a few times, hesitating.

Finally, when he was just reaching for the door control, the door slid up with a whoosh of air. Peter Nureyev stood on the other side of the opening, casually leaning with one hand against the wall. 

“Juno? Can I help you?” he asked, no hint of any distress on his face. 

Juno blinked. “Give it up, Nureyev.” He pushed his way into the room, noting the way Peter hastily moved backwards out of his way, avoiding all physical contact. “We need to talk.” The door shut automatically behind him. Nureyev maintained a vaguely affronted expression as he watched Juno. 

“Well?” he asked. 

“Well.” Juno swallowed, steeling himself. “What the hell, Nureyev?” The other’s eyebrows lifted at his aggrieved tone. “Every time I see you you’re glaring at me like I killed your cat. Not that I know what that looks like or anything...” he added the last bit under his breath. “If...if you really hate me, then, I don’t know why we’re both here. I thought we were putting things behind us, or...I mean, you acted...” He shoved his hand through his hair violently. “If we need to get things out in the open, then...let’s just _do_ that. Cause this is driving me crazy.” 

Peter’s eyes were wide and then he looked away. He looked like he was going to speak but then he didn’t and the silence stretched out painfully. “Look,” continued Juno finally. “I know I owe you an apology--”

“Don’t,” said Nureyev, shutting him up effectively. He sighed and leaned more heavily against the wall. “I don’t _hate_ you, Juno.” 

The words struck Juno somewhere in the chest and he suppressed a shiver. “So why are you looking at me like I’ve horribly offended you when I’m not doing anything?” he demanded, Nureyev’s expression of near disgust floating through his mind. 

Nureyev grimaced. “You were flirting.” The words seemed reluctantly released, almost spat in his direction. 

“I...I was not!”

Peter’s head tilted and he raised his eyebrows. “Okay, okay, maybe I was flirting.” he admitted hastily. “A little. But so what? You’re one to talk! I’m not sure you’re ever _not_ flirting.” Which wasn’t entirely fair, as Nureyev had been far less playful these past weeks than in the past. He didn’t reply other than to give something between a sigh and a shrug. 

Juno took a step towards him. And then another. “Are you seriously jealous?” he asked. “Of Jet?” 

“I know I don’t have the right to be,” Peter began stiffly, but Juno cut him off with a hand lifted to his face. He barely brushed his fingertips across Peter’s face, but it felt like an electrical current jumped between them. 

“You don’t have any reason to be jealous,” he said softly. “Of anyone. Ever.” The moment stretched, their eyes locked together, both frozen in place, Juno’s hand still touching Peter’s jaw. 

And then they were kissing, Peter’s head tilted down and Juno stretching up, lips hungry, hands grabbing at each other. Juno moaned into his mouth, one part of himself marveling at how desperate he sounded. 

After a time they parted, Nureyev leaning away and Juno stepping back to give them some space. They both breathed for a moment, heavily, neither seeming to know what to do or say. Juno wanted him, of course, wanted him badly, but that was beside the point. He didn’t know what Peter wanted. 

“I...” Nureyev began shakily, before he cleared his throat and continued in a clearer voice, “I don’t think...it’s a good idea.” Juno’s heart sank into his stomach. It wasn’t a surprise to hear, but still. “Yet,” Peter added belatedly. Juno’s eye, which had dropped to stare at the other’s feet flicked back up to his face. 

“Yet?” he asked. 

“Yet,” he replied, more firmly. “Juno...I’m sorry if I’ve been...it’s been more difficult than I’d imagined, being around you.” 

“Huh,” Juno gave a small laugh. “Well it’s been just about as awkward as I’d imagined.” That won him a curve of Peter’s lips. “Nureyev, I...I know I don’t...you have every reason to be mad at me.” Nureyev raised a shoulder diffidently. “But if you think...” Juno trailed off, his courage failing him for a moment. “I mean...I’m willing to wait. As long as I have to.”

Nureyev’s face went soft for a moment and Juno shot him a smile. “Thank you, Juno,” he said. 

With a nod, Juno slowly moved towards the door. He looked over his shoulder before leaving, but forced himself to turn around and head out.

~~~~~

“Why am _I_ the one doing the seducing? Shouldn’t N-neon be doing it?” Juno cursed as he stumbled over Nureyev’s cover name for the millionth time. At least the man had chosen a name that started with the same letter. Besides, he utterly refused to call him Atlas. Atlas Neon...it might be the worst yet.

Nureyev was grinning at him from where he was draped over the minimalist sofa of the penthouse suite they’d rented. _Juno’s_ penthouse, that is, according to the paperwork. 

“Because no one else wants to do the high-wire work, darling,” the man himself purred. Juno narrowed his eyes at him, but inwardly he was glad they were comfortable enough for Peter to flirt with him again. “Don’t worry, you’ll do fine.” 

“Yeah, of course I will. I _can_ play a role, you know.” 

“Of course,” replied Peter, far too innocently. 

“Don’t worry, the dress will be doing 90% of the work,” said Buddy, who had taken over the job of costume department for this con. 

“Hey!” he objected. “I can seduce a lonely secretary!” Heads spun as one towards the desk in the next room. 

Rita looked up from the monitor in front of her. “What?” she asked. “Don’t look at _me_ like that. I’ve definitely never been _that_ lonely.” 

“Yeah, yeah, your standards are sooo high,” he muttered in return. “What was that one person’s name? The one that smelled like the sewer?”

“...Lyndon. And it wasn’t her fault. She was a rabbit rescuer.” 

“The point is,” drawled Buddy, “that you just need to draw Ms. Thane’s attention, enough to get her to meet you again so she’s out of her apartment.”

“Right,” he sighed, still not entirely pleased about his role in this job. 

“The rest of us, well, besides Atlas and Rita, who will be doing the actual _infiltration,_ have other things to do. Once we have the codes from her remote terminal we’ll be in place to use them.”

Juno nodded but Buddy was already standing and turning away from him. She had the knack of making him feel like a mopey teenager at times, the implications of which he didn’t want to think too much about.

~~~~~

Peter leaned down closer to the monitor showing the black and white hotel security feed. Rita tapped away at her keyboard from her seat to his right.

“There!” she said as the image panned and zoomed in on Juno amid the crowd of elegantly dressed corporate entities and idle people of wealth. Peter couldn’t help admiring the overall effect of Juno’s outfit. He looked like a slightly dangerous and roguish dilettante in his shimmering, clinging dress. He knew from helping Buddy choose it that the fabric shifted from deep purples to blues and greens, drawing one’s attention like a sparkling nebula. Combined with a drastically sculpted swooping hairstyle and elegant make-up, he drew many eyes from around the room. 

The woman next to him looked a little overawed to be the focus of his attention, but Juno was leaning into her and murmuring something in her ear that caused her to throw her head back in laughter. Juno smiled slyly at her, his hand sliding around her shoulder. He looked every bit the predator who’s spotted his preferred prey. Nureyev couldn’t help the bolt of desire that shot through him at the sight. He was mesmerized by his lady love, acting as he’d never seen him before. 

“Boss looks good, huh?” Rita’s voice jolted him a bit, as he’d nearly forgotten her presence. 

“Mmm-hmmm,” he agreed. She raised her brows at his distracted response but turned back to the collection of screens in front of her. 

Watching Juno over the next quarter hour was somewhere between torture and delight. At the same time as he felt admiration and powerful attraction to this confident, smiling Juno, he was also almost overcome with jealousy. He’d never seen these expressions on Juno’s face before. He’d always thought Juno’s grumpy, grudging reaction to his flirtation was adorable, but he wondered how it would feel to be the recipient of this kind of attention from him. 

He tried to shake off the bitterness that crept into his thoughts. He’d never considered himself a jealous person. In fact, he’d couldn’t remember ever feeling anything like this in the past. It was inappropriate, he knew. Juno wasn’t his, and besides he was only playing a role. There was no reason to feel such a burning in his guts. Still, he couldn’t rid himself of it. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when Juno said his goodbyes to the now starry-eyed woman, who held his hand slightly too long and let her eyes roam over his exposed back when Juno turned away from her. Peter could see her appreciating his plump ass under the form-fitting fabric and for an instant he wanted to slap her for it. It was probably good that he wasn’t actually in the room. 

“This is just like that episode of Tranquility Heights,” enthused Rita. “The one where Devorah Diamonds seduces the heir to the Ballantine fortune, except really it’s _the butler_ in disguise, but they fall in love and run away together.” Peter turned his head swiftly and frowned at her. “I mean, I’m sure the boss won’t do that,” she added hastily. “She doesn’t look anything like a butler anyway.” 

Peter muttered some excuse and extricated himself from the room. Leaning his back to the closed door, he tried to gather his emotions and lock them away, but he didn’t have much time. He’d barely caught his breath when the suite door flew open and Juno Steel stomped into view. He grimaced and turned to shut the door behind himself, treating Nureyev to the same view the secretary downstairs had so admired. 

“Ugh, I’m going to strangle buddy for these shoes!” Juno headed directly for the master bedroom, taking the largest steps his skirt allowed, as if to minimize how many times his heels touched the ground.

“Careful or you’ll snap those in half,” Peter called after him peevishly. “They cost over two thousand creds.” Juno glared at him over his shoulder. He glared back. Juno’s brow furrowed and he turned back around to continue to the bedroom. Peter followed.

When he arrived in the doorway he saw Juno Steel with one leg lifted and his foot propped up on the bed. He was fumbling at the buckle of the shoe, but Peter’s attention was drawn to the line of his leg, exposed fully by the high slit of the dress, fallen completely open. Juno was wearing sheer black stockings that stopped halfway up his thick thigh, held up by garter ribbons. 

Peter’s mouth went dry at the sight. The skin of Juno’s tender upper thigh, exposed to the air, only a couple feet from him. His mind flashed back more than a year to their one night together, to what that flesh had felt like between his teeth, to the sound Juno had made as he nibbled and sucked him there. 

“Goddammit!” Juno’s snarl cut through the memory, and jerked Peter’s gaze to his face. He slid a hand to the front of his trousers to try to subtly adjust his rapidly growing erection. “Why do they have to make the clasps on these impossible!? Are they too expensive for elastic?” He finally looked at Nureyev, and his expression froze at whatever he saw in his face. 

“Probably,” answered Peter, ignoring the look. He approached Juno quickly, reaching for his shoe. “Let me.” His hunched posture as he did so hopefully hid his arousal as well as most of his face. 

It did, however, mean touching Juno. His smoothly-stockinged ankle. Peter couldn’t help letting his fingertips drag slightly down the curve of his calf, his left hand almost encircling his ankle and holding it still while his right went to the first tiny gold buckle on one of the straps. Juno’s intake of breath was the only reaction the other made, but the atmosphere in the room grew heavy with the knowledge of just how close they were, how easily this could become something else. He remembered their kiss back on the ship, how wonderfully right it had felt to hold Juno in his arms, how perfect the taste of him had been. 

He mentally shook himself and focused back on the task at hand. He had the shoe unbuckled in a flash, and gestured to Juno to lift his other leg. Juno gave him a strange look. “No,” he said with a small shake of his head. “I can get this one.” He sat on the bed and folded his leg over his lap to work on it.

“Right,” Peter said and took a large step back. He should have left the room, but he didn’t. He couldn’t stop looking at Juno, in that dress and that make-up. Remembering the way everyone else had looked at him, especially the mark. “It looked like she took the bait.” 

Juno looked up, narrowing his eyes at him. “Yeah, seemed like it,” he said after a beat. Silence fell, once more feeling heavy between them. “Nureyev,” Juno said at last, frustration evident in his tone. “Is there a problem?” 

“Why, Juno, I have no idea what you mean,” he replied, automatically. 

“Really.” Juno looked tired as he said it and Peter felt vaguely guilty for making things complicated. 

“You’re just so...distracting like that,” he purred, falling back on flirtation as a strategy. “I’ve never seen you like this before.” Juno froze in the act of removing his shoe, his hand in mid-air. His shoulders tensed and rounded slightly and his eyes went distant and hard. A series of breaths flared his nostrils and moved his chest, the only movement he made.

“Juno?” he asked tentatively. He’d done something wrong, said something wrong. He just didn’t know why. All the instincts honed over his lifetime were screaming at him, telling him to fix it, to cover it over with babble, but he resisted their urging. This wasn’t a mark; this was Juno. 

“Don’t,” said Juno in a low voice. He finally moved, flicking his eyes up to meet Peter’s. “Just don’t.” 

Peter’s pulse raced, reading the warning, the danger loud and clear, but he still didn’t understand. “Don’t...what, Juno? I don’t know what you mean.” Juno’s eyes shut and he took a deeper breath. Some of the tension seemed to leave him, some of the threat. 

He stood, suddenly, and turned his back to Peter, walking towards the sliding doors of the closet along one wall. “Sorry,” he said, barely turning his face over his shoulder. “Nevermind.” He slid open the door and began rummaging through the clothes there. It felt like a dismissal and Peter was pretty sure he wasn’t actually looking for anything. He should probably give Juno some space but…

“Juno, I...I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Juno stilled and his shoulders lifted and fell in a sigh. “It’s not you, Nureyev. Just old...memories.” He half turned back so Nureyev could see his profile. He started to speak and then stopped, shutting his eyes again briefly. Peter again felt the urge to leave, but he also wanted to know what was happening in Juno’s head. “My ex...Diamond...preferred me like this. Always wanted me in a dress, heels, jewelry… It’s probably why I don’t wear them anymore. That’s all.” He raised an ironic brow. “Not your fault you share his taste.” 

Peter watched him for a moment, frowning. There was a lot concealed behind those words, a lot more to this than Juno was saying. “I...I’m sorry I reminded you of someone you’d rather forget, but I think you misunderstood me a little, actually,” he began. Juno turned fully towards him in surprise. “I...well, I _do_ think you look fantastic in that dress, that’s true, but what I really meant was...seeing how you behaved with Ms. Thane. I’ve never seen you try to...seduce anyone before. You were charming. Smiling.” The corner of his lip curved up in memory. “Very tempting.” Also, he’d been thinking of the way Juno looked in the garters and stockings, but he thought it was probably a bad idea to admit it when you’ve been staring at your ex-lover’s underthings. 

“Oh.” 

“As I said, I like you like this--” He waved his hand to encompass Juno’s outfit. “--but I like you in pretty much anything. Including that filthy trench coat.” Juno narrowed his eyes as if he didn’t quite believe him, but there was a hint of humor in his eyes and his cheeks. 

“Well,” he said, turning back to the closet. “I’m going to get back into that _recently cleaned_ coat, if you don’t mind.” 

“Sure,” Peter replied, and moved to leave him alone. 

“Wait,” Juno called after him. 

“Hmm?”

“This has a hook I can’t reach. Old shoulder injury.” Juno gestured weakly to the back of his dress. “Can you?” 

“Oh, of course.” Peter moved towards him with a detached air, but he thought Juno’s cheeks looked a bit flushed. He reached for the clasp and undid it, and then lowered the zipper a few inches, but not low enough to reveal anything. He very carefully did _not_ brush against Juno’s skin with his fingers. 

“Thanks,” said Juno as he stepped back. Just as he turned to go, a warm hand closed on his own. He looked down at Juno in surprise. There was a beat in which he was clearly working up to something, or making his mind up. Peter’s heart was in his throat, not sure what was coming. 

“You want me to smile more?” said Juno at last, and he had to shake himself a little. He wasn’t sure, at first, what he meant. Then he remembered his own words. 

“Oh. Well, it would be nice? I’d like to see you happy more often.” He smiled, but Juno looked away, pain passing over his face briefly. He looked back at Peter. He felt himself drawn into Juno’s dark eyes, which were filled with such need, and a questioning. Peter wanted to reach for him, to smooth the distress from his face, to bend down and kiss him, but something still held him back. 

He looked away, breaking the eye contact. He heard Juno make a small sound of frustration. “What do you want, Nureyev?” His voice was a whisper, tired, but vulnerable in a way Juno almost never allowed himself.

Peter considered a moment. “You never looked at me the way you were looking at that woman.”

“What? Are you kidding? Nureyev, you know this is all fake. An act. What we had...” He broke off but the implied words hung in the air between them. _What we had was real._

“Had?” he asked, voice wavering slightly on the word. Juno’s eye went wide and helpless, his mouth moved but didn’t form words. He held the eye contact, searching for a clue. All he found was desire, a deep wanting in Juno’s expression. He thought it matched the ache he felt inside himself, if he wasn’t deluding himself. 

“Maybe,” he said slowly, “maybe I want to be seduced?” Juno let go of his hand and leaned back a little. 

“Really?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” he answered. 

A smile spread across Juno’s face, genuine and blinding. “I think, maybe, I could do that,” he said.

~~~~~

It turned out, Juno could _not_ do that. His only real experience trying to seduce anyone tended to happen either when he was under the influence of something or faking it for a case. This was different. This _mattered._

If he was brutally honest with himself, he thought he probably failed utterly over the next few days. To be fair there was a lot going on: he was still playing the socialite with the secretary while Nureyev cased his target and laid his plans. They didn’t have a lot of time together. When they did, he tried to send Peter significant looks, touch him in subtle ways, flirt when he got the chance (and when Rita wasn’t around to make fun of him.) But while Nureyev seemed to notice the individual attempts, he didn’t seem...overly _moved_ by them. 

Juno finally gave up on subtle. It was not his style at all. He decided to throw subtlety right out his very stylish and expensive window, in fact. But not until the job was over. He still had a secretary to seduce, but without seducing her _too well._ Again, slow-playing things wasn’t exactly his style either. To be fair, he didn’t think the majority of the Crime Crew would object if he just went ahead and slept with her, but to judge from Nureyev’s behavior he would mind very much indeed. And moreover, he didn’t really want to. 

So on the night of the heist he talked Ms. Thane out of her apartment and into his suite. She needed to stay out of the way for long enough for Peter to infiltrate her apartment for the passkey and then her office in the high security building of the corporation they were targeting. So Vespa had supplied him with a little drug cocktail to slip into her wine. First they worked their way through two bottles, to make the memory loss and hangover convincing enough. Just as things were getting uncomfortably close to x-rated, the drugs took hold and she slipped into unconsciousness across his lap. 

He paced while she drooled into the cushions and Rita rambled from the next room. She was monitoring Peter’s progress and he lost track of how many times he asked her if everything was okay. Finally, _finally_ she reported he was on his way back to the hotel. Juno wasn’t looking forward to the next part of the plan. 

With Nureyev’s help he carried Ms. Thane into the elevator and into her own apartment. He was grateful for Peter’s ability to charm anyone when they ended up sharing the lift with a couple of wide-eyed tourists who kept inquiring after their friend’s well-being. 

Once safely in her room came the really objectionable part: undressing her and placing her in bed. Juno nearly balked at it, his stomach turning over at the thought of taking advantage of an unconscious person like that. Nureyev offered to do it if he wouldn’t, but his conscience got the better of him on that count, too. At least she’d been willing to have him see her naked, even if it’d been under false pretenses. She didn’t even know Peter. So he did it, as quickly as possible. Then he left a slurred message on her comms thanking her for a great time and apologizing for getting her so drunk. 

Finally they fled back to their own rooms, where Rita already had her equipment packed. They were leaving immediately, in case the company caught wind of the incursion sooner than expected. They exited via a back door normally locked at that hour and were in route to the rendezvous point within half an hour. Juno cursed his high heels and tight dress when he tried to climb out of the car, but inwardly he was glad to still be wearing the outfit. 

Buddy was waiting for them while Jet and Vespa got them into the air. Juno gave her the briefest possible summary of the situation, leaving Nureyev to the more technical assurances. He hurried in the direction of the cabins, opening his own only long enough to throw his bags inside, check his make-up, and grab a couple things. Then he proceeded to Nureyev’s door, which opened without any trouble at his touch. 

He checked his appearance in Peter’s large mirror once more, trying not to notice how nervous he looked. _Cool it, Steel,_ he told himself. He set the bottles he’d brought at the side of the bed: one water, one whiskey. He allowed himself a slug of whiskey, followed by a healthy amount of water to clean out his mouth. Then he arranged himself across Peter’s bed, tugging his dress so the slit parted and showed his bent leg. His heart pounded loudly and he tried not to count the beats. What if Peter didn’t come to bed anytime soon. How long would his nerves last before he gave up? 

He should have brought something to read. No, that was silly. Instead he closed his eyes and practiced what he would say, ran through scenarios. He tried not to dwell on the fact that the next hour might determine the rest of his life. 

The cabins were quite well-insulated from sound. He’d noticed it before. It was lucky, or else they’d all hear everything that happened on the ship. It was difficult enough for them all to occupy such a small space together, but if they hadn’t been able to escape for some privacy? He hated to think about it. It meant, however, that he didn’t hear Peter approaching the door until it whooshed open. 

His eyes flew open to see Peter standing halfway through the doorway, frozen in surprise. His right hand was behind him, under his coat, in the gesture Juno recognized as his instinctive reach for one of his knives. Then his body relaxed and he stepped forward, the door closing behind him. He smiled: a slow, delighted thing that took over his whole face.

“Juno,” Peter said, looking him over from head to expensively-clad toe. “What a _lovely_ surprise.” 

Juno pushed himself up onto his elbows, recovering from his moment of panic at being caught with his eyes closed. He had intended to give Peter his best smoldering look, to say something suave, but instead he felt himself reflecting back that dazzling smile. “Hi,” was all he said. 

“Hello, my dear.” Nureyev took another step towards him and set the bag in his hand on the floor against the wall. “Not that I’m at all complaining, but to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” 

Juno felt his face heat. “You said you wanted to be seduced. And no matter what you said, I know you liked the dresses.” He hurried to continue before Nureyev could interrupt. “So since this is the last time I’ll be all dolled up, for the near future, at least...” He waved a hand at himself, the bed, the room. “I thought I’d give it my best shot.” 

Nureyev’s eyes sparkled behind his glasses as he closed the distance to the bed. Juno sat up as Peter lowered himself to a crouch. He felt the smile melt off his face as he nerves rose up. “Nureyev, I’m...I’m not any good at this.”

“I don’t know, darling, I think you’re doing alright so far.” 

“Am I?” Peter’s face went soft and he reached for Juno’s hand where it was resting on the mattress. His elegant fingers closed over Juno’s rougher ones, and the touch was an immediate comfort. Peter lifted his hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. He felt a swooping in his belly and his throat grew tight for a moment. He swallowed against the emotion. “I think I’m the one supposed to be doing that,” he said.

“Oh?” Peter brushed his lips across his knuckles. “Let’s not get all caught up in who does what.” His eyes met Juno’s and they stared at one another for a quiet moment.

“Peter,” Juno said seriously. “What would you like me to do? Anything you want.” Part of him was sure the answer was going to be that Nureyev wanted him to leave. Despite all indications to the contrary. But he just smiled. 

“Right now, Juno, I’d really like if you kissed me.” A beat while the words rang in the room. Juno had to let them play through his mind a second time before he realized he should be moving. He swung his legs to the floor, abandoning his sideways pose, and bent forward. Peter remained still and let him move. He had to lean far forward, so the kiss was gentle and tentative when he finally reached his lips. 

It didn’t have the desperation of their last kiss, that fear-driven edge where Juno could only hold on as tight as possible, knowing Peter would pull away at any moment. This was a kiss of patience, of promise. They had hours ahead of them and could afford to linger. Slowly, Peter rose from his knees and Juno pulled him up to sit beside him on the bed. He didn’t break their kiss, but trailed his hands over Peter’s skin, up his arms, across his shoulders, to the fastening of his shirt. He worked the buttons open without looking, then slid a hand into the resulting gap. Peter hummed against his mouth as his fingers brushed across a nipple. He was so warm, while Juno always seemed to be cold whatever the temperature. 

Their lips finally broke apart and while Juno gasped for air, Peter worked his mouth down the side of his throat, nipping at the ridges of muscle along the way. He kissed along his collarbone and across the strap of his dress to his exposed shoulder. Juno was lost in the feel of it, head tilted back, unable to do anything but clutch at Peter and make soft noises of pleasure. He felt Peter’s lips curve against the skin of his shoulder. 

“Love, why don’t you get this dress out of the way, hmm?” he said. Juno reached behind himself immediately to feel for the zipper, but Nureyev stopped him with a chuckle and a hand on his arm. “I’ll get that.” Juno flushed at his own eagerness to please. Warm fingers brushed his spine as the back of the dress opened. He stood up to slip the fabric from his shoulders, letting the top of the garment fall. On the bed, Peter watched him eagerly, his eyes flitting up and down his figure. Juno felt a twinge of self-consciousness as he let the dress fall down to the floor, all too aware of how many scars marred his skin. Peter’s gaze ghosted past them all and flared wider at the sight of what he had worn beneath the dress: a simple red satin garter belt holding up black stockings, with a matching g-string underneath. 

“Juno,” he said in wonder. He felt himself wince, though evoking that kind of reaction had been exactly his intention. “Come here.” Peter’s hands reached out and settled onto Juno’s hip when he stepped out of the puddle of fabric and stopped at the edge of the bed. After raking his eyes once more over the entire picture, Peter lowered his head and pressed a very delicate kiss right to the head of Juno’s cock where it strained against the front of the underwear. He was rock hard, of course, had been almost since Peter walked into the room. His cock ached to be taken between those soft lips, but Nureyev straightened once more. His hands slid around, coming to cup the exposed flesh of Juno’s ass. He shivered.

Peter squeezed once, twice. Then he released him and moved to the side. He patted the center of the narrow mattress. “Lie down for me. Face down.” Juno’s stomach flipped over at the words and the calm, confident tone in which they were delivered. He vaguely realized he’d lost control of this entire scenario long ago, but couldn’t find a bit of himself that cared. 

He obeyed Peter, climbing onto the bed and stretching out with his bare back exposed. The only parts of him not bare were his legs in the sheer stockings, his feet still in the strappy heels, and the few inches at his hips covered by the satin belt. The muscles of his thighs and ass quivered, wanting to thrust his erection against the bed, but he forced himself as still as possible. He felt Peter position himself on the bed so he knelt beside his right thigh. 

Slender, warm fingers stroked down his back from shoulder to waist, setting off a shiver. A second hand joined the first and they slid back up to his upper back, fingertips digging in. Some of the tension bled from Juno on an exhale. Nureyev continued working around his back, feeling out points of tension with precision and coaxing soft groans from Juno’s lips. Just when he’d really started to relax, a soft pair of lips pressed right between his shoulder blades, which shocked him into arching his head back. 

Peter chuckled as his hands slid down to the curve of Juno’s ass, his lips kissing their way down his spine in their wake. He massaged the globes of his cheeks for a while, pulling them apart enough so Juno could feel the cool air against his crack. The strap of the g-string teased against his hole as it shifted with Peter’s attentions. He was starting to feel breathless with wanting, all this tenderness and teasing unfamiliar. His body ached for the main event, for pounding and grabbing and thrusting. He tried to catch his breath as best he could and thrust the impatience away. This was different. Everything about it was different from what he was used to, and he wasn’t going to let his stupid body ruin it for him. 

He felt Nureyev moving again, settling down lower, between Juno’s legs. He tensed reflexively, his body once again sure it knew what would come next. And if Peter wanted to go ahead and fuck him into the mattress, he was certainly willing. But instead Peter pulled the g-string aside, parted his cheeks, and then hot breath against his hole preceded the wet slide of his tongue. Juno moaned, embarrassingly loudly. Peter only spread him wider and pressed harder with his tongue, working it up and down in long licks. Juno squirmed against the bed, stifling his mouth against the pillow to keep from hearing the echo of his cries again. He had been shocked into pure reaction by the sensation, so intensely pleasurable and incredibly intimate, without warning. Peter maintained a strong grip on the sides of his ass, thumbs spreading him open, holding him as still as he could, not showing any hesitation in the action of his mouth. 

It went on and on. Juno felt himself opening up gradually, allowing Peter to delve inside, penetrating him with that wet, probing muscle. Part of Juno’s mind wondered, absently, if it was possible for him to come like this, with no touch but Nureyev’s tongue in his ass, and his cock rocking lightly against the bed. He didn’t find out, though Peter ate him out for what seemed like eternity. Finally, when Juno was a trembling, breathless mess, he pulled back and sat up. 

“Ah, how nice of you to provide refreshments,” said Peter as casually as if he were at a cocktail party. Juno managed to prop himself up on one elbow and watched as he tossed back some whiskey with a quick grimace. “Remind me to pick you up some single-malt, though. I know where I can get some of the real earth-barrel aged stuff.” 

“I brought everything I thought we might need,” Juno said, reaching next to the bed. “Whiskey, water...and this.” He brandished the bottle of lube. He hadn’t wanted to take the chance that Peter didn’t have any. Nureyev grinned at the sight, something feral in the way the light caught his canines. 

“Well I certainly think we’ll need it, but maybe not yet.” He climbed back onto the bed. “Turn over, Juno,” he instructed. Juno rolled, splaying out his legs wantonly. Peter climbed back in between them and ran his hands down his inner thighs, stopping unfortunately before he reached the red satin still covering his aching cock. He canted his hips up in a silent plea. Peter winked at him then reached behind himself to the back of his waistband. Juno noted he was still almost entirely dressed, which was a damn shame, but he’d given over the reins of this evening to Nureyev long ago. 

From behind his back, Peter pulled one of his knives, unsheathed and deadly. Juno’s eyebrows rose. “Umm, no offense, Nureyev, but I’m not sure I’m all that enthusiastic about knives in bed.” 

“Oh,” said Peter, moving the blade through the air in a lazy figure eight. “Don’t you trust me?” He made eye contact, however, intently enough to belie the flippancy of his manner. 

“I...of course I do.” Peter touched the knife to the skin of his belly, right above the line of the garter belt. It was a light touch with the flat of the blade, nothing that could hurt. It still made him suck air into his lungs and close his eyes for a moment. When he opened his eyes he could see Peter still watching him intently. 

“Is this a problem?” he asked. 

“I...I think that depends. What are you intending to _do_ with that?”

“Nothing,” Peter seemed to be in a deadly serious mood. “Nothing that will hurt you at all, I swear.” Juno frowned at him and looked from his face to the blade shining against his dark skin. He felt another shiver up his spine but tried to suppress any movement from it. The truth was, having that knife out, pressed to him...it was a huge turn-on. He supposed it wasn’t that surprising. His sense of self-preservation wasn’t exactly through the roof. 

“So,” continued Peter after a heavy moment. “Do you trust me?” He realized suddenly that this _did_ matter to Nureyev, quite a lot. 

“I already said yes, Nureyev.” He held Peter’s searching gaze. The knife rose off his skin and moved, slowly and deliberately, until it hovered right over the wet spot in the satin that covered the head of his cock. His breath quickened. The blade lowered, until it rested once more with the flat against him, but now it was against the head of his cock. Without realizing it, he uttered a long keening sound as he tried very hard not to move. 

“Peter,” he hissed through his teeth. He saw his lover’s eyes flare. And then he lifted the knife and Juno exhaled. Peter grinned at him and in two deft movements lifted and cut through the straps holding the g-string in place under the garters. As Juno tried to get his heartrate to calm down, Peter sheathed the knife once more. 

“Were you worried?” he asked. Juno shook his head, not trusting his voice to sound calm yet. Peter reached out and brushed his thumb across his lips. “Good girl.” Juno’s eyes fluttered closed again for a moment as the words burned through him. Without warning, the cloth over his cock was drawn aside, the air a cool shock on the wet flesh. “So messy,” teased Peter, rubbing the damp fabric between his fingers. 

Juno whined and thrust up towards him. Their eyes met and with all the ferocious need he could muster he begged, “Please.” This time it was Peter’s turn to look undone for a moment. He blinked and then licked his lips once before lowering his head and taking Juno’s cock into his mouth. 

Juno wasn’t ashamed of the loud groan he made. He had earned it. He also couldn’t help the way he thrust up into that hot, perfect mouth. Peter let him, taking it like an expert. In another minute he had a hand beneath Juno and was pressing a thumb into his ass. It was perfect and he thought he might come except that he desperately wanted Nureyev to fuck him, and he wasn’t sure if he still would if Juno finished first. So he gritted his teeth and tried to distract himself. 

It wasn’t enough. “God, Peter, stop, please.” Immediately his cock was released and the finger disappeared from his ass. He nearly growled at the cessation of sensation, though he’d asked for it. Peter’s face held concern but he waved it away. “I...don’t want to come...I want you to fuck me.” Nureyev smiled at this with something that looked tender over a darker emotion. Juno thought it might just be desire, and hoped he was right. He wanted to be able to make Nureyev want him like that. 

He turned his head to watch as Nureyev stood and stripped off his clothes. He felt the urgency of his body fade as he focused on the image of the most beautiful man he’d ever known lit by the glow of the cool ship lamps. A lump formed in his throat with the thought that he didn’t deserve this. Not after throwing it away once. Why was Nureyev looking at him like this? How? 

Peter climbed over him and caged him with his arms. “None of that,” he said. 

“I can’t...” whispered Juno. 

Elegant hands came up and cradled his face. “Shh. Be here with me, now, Juno.” And Peter kissed him, and Juno felt like sobbing, but he couldn’t, so he opened his mouth to him and did his best to reciprocate. Belatedly he realized Peter was naked and on top of him, and he ran his fingers down his long back, arching up to feel him all along his body. Bit by bit his distress melted. Here and now, he repeated to himself. 

“Please,” he said once more, but this time it was reverent. “I want you in me.” Nureyev obeyed his request, sliding down and readying to penetrate him. With a slick slide his cock pushed in, wrenching a gasp from Juno. He grabbed Peter’s forearm as a signal and he paused. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Just...wow, been a while. It’s alright you can move.” The sharp burn had passed and he felt Peter press on, slowly. 

“How long?” he asked, a bit breathless.

“Hmm?” The sound was almost a moan. “Oh, uh...since...you?” He turned his face to the side, against Peter’s arm. 

“Really?” The low murmur sounded right next to his ear and then soft lips were sucking on his earlobe. 

“Yeah,” he admitted. Another movement of hips and he gasped in pleasure. “Damn, that’s good.” Peter kept his motions slow, gentle, but the feeling of being opened, filled; it was incredible. “Peter,” he moaned. 

“Juno.” 

The breath came hot against his ear again. So close, so intimate, so absolutely perfect. He wanted to sob, but when he opened his mouth what came out was, “I love you.” 

The sound that came from above him wasn’t quite a sob either, but it wasn’t quite a gasp. “I love you, too, Juno. Always have.” Another thrust, harder now. “Never stopped.” Juno whimpered, prickling behind his screwed shut eye. He reached up blindly, found Peter’s face, and pulled him into a kiss: devouring, worshipful, trying to give everything of himself through his mouth. 

They continued like that: kissing and fucking while so tightly wound together, panting in each other’s ears and treasuring every sound of pleasure the other made. They kept it slow, or it would have been over too fast. Ultimately Juno had no idea how long it took until he was pushed over the edge, but when he came it was nearly painful with the force of it. A few sharp snaps of his hips later, Peter spilled inside him with a choked off cry. 

Juno’s ruined panties served to clean them up well enough for the moment, and then they settled back into one another in the narrow bed, Juno’s head buried into Peter’s chest. For a long while, the only sounds in the room were their breathing, gradually slowing. 

“Peter,” Juno broke the silence finally. “You know, I’m...I’m sorry, right? About...what I did back in Hyperion?” There was a heavy silence, then the sound of Nureyev exhaling slowly. He sat up and so did Juno, pulling away from the safety of his arms.

“We don’t need to… we don’t have to go into it too much, but...I just need to know. Was it...” Nureyev paused. “Was it me, or leaving that...” He didn’t finish, but Juno knew what he meant. He sighed. “Sorry, but--”

“No,” he interrupted Peter. “It’s okay. It was…there was you, and how I _felt_ about you, and you were offering this whole new _life_ and...” He trailed off despite himself. A new life. Fuck. 

There was a lengthy silence. “Tell me,” said Nureyev at last, and only then did Juno realize he’d been shaking his head slightly. 

He took a breath. “The life I had...it...it was the life I _deserved._ ” He shook his head again, this time intentionally, not able to get into the weight of that word. “Leaving it would have meant...” Would have meant leaving Ben behind. Forgiving himself—for Ben, for Diamond, for how low he’d sunk. “There’s a lot,” he said, a humorless laugh escaping. “A lot I would have been leaving behind.”

“But now?” asked Peter, and he sounded slightly confused. Juno couldn’t blame him. 

“Now I’ve...said goodbye properly. Sort of. I was ready to leave. Still terrified, but ready.” He looked to Peter, the fragile bit of hope he clung to flickering in his chest. He couldn’t quite read Nureyev’s face, but it was enough to make him open his mouth again. “Back then I...I spent most of my time trying _not_ to think about any of it. All the shit...” He tilted his head back to indicate his past. “I’m sorry,” he said again, some part of him cursing the endless, useless litany of it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t ready.” 

And then Nureyev had moved and his arms were wrapping around Juno, before he even realized it was happening. He was enfolded and pressed to Peter’s bare chest, listening to the sound of his lungs and his heart, warm and terribly safe once more. 

“It’s okay,” said Nureyev softly. “I...let’s...how about we start from here?” His words didn’t carry his usual confidence, his assertion, but Juno’s heart soared. 

Juno lifted his head. “Peter,” he said, voice wavering. “Y-yeah. Can we?” Peter’s answer was a kiss, desperate but tender and sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Title is from "Only You" by Portishead, which remains one of the sexiest songs in existence, IMO. 
> 
> Comments are why I do this. That and how Juno Steel would look in a garter belt and g-string. 
> 
> You can follow my Penumbra blog at gentlysociallypinned.tumblr.com.


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